


Cast Again Your Shadow

by ixia_1



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-23 23:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30063504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixia_1/pseuds/ixia_1
Summary: A bad experience on a case brings up old memories and more recent fears for Dirk.
Relationships: Farah Black & Todd Brotzman & Dirk Gently
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Cast Again Your Shadow

It took nearly four days to find Dirk.

By the time they did, he'd heard the pass codes used by every one of the twenty conspirators through the thin walls of the storeroom he'd been imprisoned in, without which they could never have solved the case. That didn't change the fact that, when Farah and Todd finally (with help from several startling coincidences) located and broke into the basement of the old office building, they found him lying unconscious on the concrete floor.

His wrists were secured to a metal shelving rack with cable ties. Farah wordlessly handed Todd her knife while she kept watch at the door.

"Dirk?" Todd suppressed the urge to shake him frantically, instead checking his pulse in his throat. "Dirk, wake up."

He sawed through the plastic ties. Dirk's hands were freezing cold, his nails purple. The ties fell away, exposing raw wrists dark with bruising, not all of it from the ties.

Dirk's arms dropped to the floor. Todd did shake him then. His head lolled to the side. It looked like he'd been punched in the face, more than once.

"Come on," Todd muttered. He tried to be gentle as he peeled away the tape they'd used to gag Dirk, but it pulled nastily at his skin. Finally, he stirred.

"Can you go a little faster?" Farah whispered. "We don't know when they'll be back."

Todd set to work on the tape around Dirk's ankles. As he gripped Dirk's right foot to get a better angle for cutting, Dirk gasped in pain.

Todd let go of him, seeing now that his right ankle was swollen to twice the size of his left.

"Shit. Farah, even if we can wake him up properly, I don't think he'll be walking out of here."

She holstered her gun. "All right. That's fine. That's okay. That's not a problem. We'll be quick and quiet, and get out before they return."

She crouched down to pull Dirk's left arm over her shoulder. The other hung limply. Todd didn't envy him the pins and needles he had coming. His eyes opened at last, but he seemed awake rather than aware.

Todd cut through the last of the tape. Farah clamped a hand over Dirk's mouth as he cried out.

"Sorry, sorry." Todd scurried over to get hold of Dirk's right arm. "But we have to go, now, and by the look of your ankle, this is going to hurt more."

"You have to be quiet," Farah added. "Dirk, do you hear me? You can't make a sound."

Miraculously, he turned his head more or less in her direction and, after a moment, nodded.

Somehow they got him up, and, though his breath caught and he squeezed his eyes shut, somehow he managed to stay silent, even when his right foot snagged and turned on the uneven floor. He was not a small man, compared to either of them, but between them Todd and Farah half carried, half dragged him out of the building and along the weed-choked path to the open lot where they'd left their car.

Dirk collapsed onto the back seat, breathing raggedly. Todd lifted his legs in for him, wincing as Dirk made a quiet keening noise.

"Get in," Farah said sharply. "I hear vehicles approaching."

A short, anxious drive later, she pulled off to the side of the road.

"We should be clear now. I don't think they'll try to come after us in the middle of town. They've been pretty determined to stay under the radar so far."

She pulled a bottle of water from the glove box, opened it, and twisted round to hold it out to Dirk.

"Here. You look...seriously dehydrated. Sip it at first, or you might get sick."

Todd was relieved when Dirk reached for the bottle. His grip was weak and his hands shook, splashing water onto the car seat, but he managed to raise it to his cracked, bleeding lips.

"Home, or hospital?" Todd murmured to Farah.

She gave Dirk a long, worried look. "Hospital, I think."

Dirk was put in a bed on a general ward. Farah joined Todd there after settling the bill and their cover story for how Dirk had come to be in that state. She pulled the curtain closed around the bed behind her.

"How is he?"

Todd grimaced. "It looks like they got tired of roughing him up after the first day or so." He kept his voice low. "But then they just left him locked in that room. The doctor wants him to stay here and on a drip until he's got enough fluids and nutrients in him. At least his ankle isn't broken, but it's a bad sprain, so he's still not going to be walking on it for a while. I couldn't really explain his wrists..."

"I took care of it. I hope." Farah looked down at Dirk, alarmingly pale and still on the bed. "This...shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have taken us four days. We should have—"

"It won't happen again. We won't let it."

"And how are we supposed to do that? He keeps...running off--"

"I know, and I kind of hate it, but that's how--"

"If I hadn't," Dirk said, his voice cracked and hoarse, "I wouldn't have been locked up in the bad guys' meeting place, and I wouldn't have overheard the _vital_ information that will allow our client to stop them once and for all."

When he was sure he had both of their full attention, he attempted a weak, pained smile. "Solved it?"

Todd sighed. "Great, but can you try a bit harder to not almost die next time?"

Dirk gave Todd a shaky thumbs up.

Going by his track record in the year since they'd met him, Farah was not reassured.

Fortunately, the resolution of this case was out of their hands once the pass codes Dirk provided, combined with some creative use of instant messaging, put their rather scary, probably supernatural client and the elusive conspirators together in a location of her choosing. Todd didn't really want to know what she had planned for them, but given Dirk's condition, it wasn't something he was going to lose sleep over.

The office was quiet and a bit drab without the presence of Dirk or any Dirk-related anxiety. Todd and Farah tidied the detritus of the case away with quiet efficiency. They worked well together, two months spent in cars and motel rooms and fear for their lives leaving them more comfortable in each other's company than Todd had been with his band mates even after multiple tours, more comfortable than he'd ever felt with anyone other than Amanda. Still. Then, he'd only known Dirk a scant few days. Now, it was strange not to have him there too.

"How long before the next one, do you think?" Farah said.

"Who knows? So far the cases do seem to leave Dirk—and us—at least a little recovery time in between."

"Not always."

"Okay—not always," Todd conceded, remembering one particularly awful week a couple of months back with Farah on antibiotics, himself on flu meds, and Dirk only functional—barely—thanks to strong painkillers and sheer necessity.

"Do you think it was like this for him before? Before he met us, I mean."

"I don't know..." Todd surveyed the office, hands on hips, to check they hadn't missed anything. "I never know whether to believe the stories he tells about his old cases or not. I don't see why things would have got _more_ dangerous now that he has proper help. Unless the universe figures we'll come and rescue him, so he can be pushed into riskier situations. But it doesn't seem...I guess you were right, that time you told me that whatever it is that guides Dirk, it isn't _nice_. It isn't personal. I thought, at first—but it really does only seem to care that the job gets done, not about the people involved or who gets hurt along the way."

"Is that why he still goes off alone sometimes, even when he could call us?"

"Maybe." Todd shrugged. "He hasn't talked much about that, not since Bergsberg."

One thing Todd had started to learn, slowly and unpleasantly, was how little choice Dirk's life actually afforded him—and now, by association, Todd and Farah. His attempt to repeat Dirk's own advice about taking control back to him all those months ago seemed like a bad joke now.

Surprisingly, none of this had yet to make Todd want to walk away.

"I know I'm not his bodyguard," Farah said suddenly. "It's just that, I guess, I _was_ a bodyguard for a long time. And it's hard not to...feel like I've failed somehow. When this sort of thing happens."

"I know." Todd knew _her_ , and he'd been waiting for this since the hospital. "I mean, I know you feel that, even though you haven't. And you found him, because you're the only one of us who actually knows how to do this stuff. Also, come to think of it, imagine someone who actually _did_ have to be Dirk's bodyguard. How many of them would make it through the first day without quitting or having a nervous breakdown or, you know, murdering him themselves?"

That startled a laugh out of her. "Right? You'd have to have _so much_ hazard pay. I tried to guard him for a few _hours_ that first week, and he practically summoned up an assassin out of nowhere, got chased and shot at all through a crowded mall, was kidnapped by a body-swapped FBI agent, and shot twice with electric crossbow bolts. In one day."

"Technically a really, really long day, if you count the time travel."

They grinned at each other, and the last of the adrenaline and dread that had kept Todd running finally evaporated.

"And it's been a really, really long _week_ ," he said, as the exhaustion hit him like a truck. "Man, I need to sleep."

"For like three days," Farah agreed fervently.

"Take-out, then bed. You?"

Farah shook her head. "I have to go for a run first, or I won't be _able_ to sleep. You coming in tomorrow?"

"Nah, not unless I have to. Lunch at the place down the road, though?"

"Sure. See you there."

They didn't hug or anything overt like that, but she sort of leaned into him on her way past with her gym bag, and he brushed his fingers against hers.

After locking up the Agency office, Todd dragged himself to the pizza place on the next block, and then the extra few minutes' walk to Dirk's building. Dirk had ended up staying there during a case through a ridiculous series of events, and then, even more ridiculously, been invited to live in the loft apartment rent-free once he had proved that the place wasn't haunted—or, at least, not by ghosts. He'd seemed delighted but unsurprised, so Todd guessed that was more or less how a lot of his accommodation had come to him in the past.

The loft was in appalling condition, the whole building old and one diligent inspection away from being condemned, but it was big and had high ceilings and massive arched windows, and Dirk clearly loved it. Or maybe loved the sign that the universe was agreeing with him settling here for a while. He'd urged Todd to move in too, as the last of them to still be camping out at the Agency office, but Todd had refused and found a place to rent one bus stop away. He wasn't even sure why. Something about needing his own space to decompress, away from the Agency and the weirdness and even the others, in case it got too intense. Except that he hadn't lived alone since the week he'd met Dirk, and he wasn't used to anything _other_ than intense these days, and going home to his studio apartment, small and clean and bland, felt like visiting a life he was grateful to have left behind.

That was at first, of course. Returning to that ordinary little room by himself no longer felt like the strangest part of his day.

Much.

It took Dirk a while to get the door open. Even though his face lit up at the sight of the pizza, Todd still worried suddenly that he should have called first.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

Dirk waved off that idea as he limped back to the couch. The loft was largely empty, but Dirk had, through wandering around being, well, Dirk, acquired a few very nice items of furniture, including the most comfortable couch Todd had ever slept on, and a plethora of brightly coloured rugs.

"It's still daylight, Todd," he scoffed, then glanced at the darkening windows. "Just about. Why would I be asleep?"

Todd didn't say _because you look awful and you probably should be_. The pallor of Dirk's skin contrasted vividly with the bruises and the deep shadows under his eyes.

They ate pizza and chatted and laughed as if nothing had happened that week.

Todd wasn't sure if Dirk wanted him to leave or not at the end of the evening. While he cleared away the pizza boxes and picked up his jacket, Dirk went kind of awkward, but Todd was too tired for guessing games. He'd slept over the first night Dirk was out of the hospital, but there hadn't seemed any need, or desire on Dirk's part, for him to stay after that. He delayed leaving as long as he felt he could, but Dirk didn't ask.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Todd said. "Chinese for supper?"

"Sounds good."

Before he let himself out, Todd felt compelled to say, "You're okay? Feeling better?"

"Of course," Dirk said, as if surprised by the question. He looked down ruefully at his ankle. "Well, maybe not okay _physically_ just yet, and by the way, I'm very appreciative of the food delivery service, but..." He shrugged as if to say, _that's just the way it is_.

"Good."

Todd wasn't sure he'd be quite so fine if he'd spent days trapped in a dark room not knowing if he'd be released, or rescued, or left to starve to death. He supposed Dirk's standards for these things weren't exactly...standard, though.

It did seem like being essential to fixing the universe meant that, however horrible things got, you'd always be the one left standing (if not unscathed) at the end.

Todd thought of his sister, and hoped that was true.

Dirk hauled himself up from the couch after Todd left and limped painfully around the apartment switching on every lamp. Farah had been on at him again about locking his door, so he did that, making sure to leave the keys on top of the refrigerator where he couldn't lose them. He turned on the telly, fetched a blanket from his bed, and settled down again.

His hands weren't shaking, but it felt like his bones were.

He decided very firmly Not To Think.

He wasn't sure what woke him. The television was mumbling away about tomorrow's—today's? His eyes hadn't focused yet, but the box at the bottom of the screen seemed to say two-something—weather. The lights were all still on. But his heart was pounding and something was telling him to _HIDE_.

He stayed where he was for a few minutes, watching them tick past on the screen, straining to hear anything out of place. Then he slid off the couch and hobbled to the window.

The lamplight made it hard to see out. He pressed himself to the wall next to the window and peered out, trying not to fog the glass with his breath. His phone was in his hand. He didn't recall taking it from his pocket, and couldn't for a moment remember what use it would be if he _were_ in some kind of danger.

A car drove past on the street below. Its headlights swept over the figure of a man leaning against the wall of the building opposite. He was dressed in black and had fair hair and it was a too-brief, too-distant glimpse to see anything more, and there was _no reason at all_ for Dirk to drop to the floor with his free hand pressed over his mouth. But reason meant nothing, and the lights meant nothing, and sixteen years meant nothing, and the last nine months meant nothing at all. His thumb flicked open his contacts on his phone, hovered over the first, then jammed down on the second.

He crawled back to the couch, ignoring the protests from his ankle. Everything felt slow, even the lamplight. He wasn't sure he was actually awake.

He was huddled behind the couch when his phone said, "Dirk?"

He jumped. He stared at it, then realized he had made a call, and this was the answer. He lifted the phone to his ear.

"Dirk, it's...the middle of the night." Farah sounded groggy. "What's wrong? Are you in trouble?"

"Farah...Farah, I—" His brain finally caught up and he cut himself off. He closed his eyes, cursing silently. Stupid, stupid.

She sounded _really_ awake now. "Where are you?" There were rustling noises. "What's happening? Do you need--"

"I'm fine," he said abruptly. "Sorry. My mistake. Go back to sleep."

He hung up before she could respond. Then he turned his phone off.

After a large amount of time that happened all at once, he crawled back to the window.

There were no headlights this time, and he was terrified that he was on display at the bright window. But, after a breathless moment, he was sure that the man had gone.

He slid back down the wall. Gone where? Leaving was out of the question until he knew. There was nowhere useful to hide in the apartment. He'd do better in the lower floors of the building, but that meant standing up in full view of the windows to get his keys, and then risking being caught on the stairs when he could barely walk, so that was...an option to build up to.

The rolling news bulletin said that it was after three. He couldn't remember how much after two it had been when he'd woken, though, so that didn't really tell him how long it had been. How far the man could have gone. He could check his phone, his call log, maybe. In a bit. After he was done sitting here.

In the end, he didn't check his phone, or fetch his keys. By the time he was back behind his couch again, he'd done some _actual_ thinking with his actual _brain_. There really wasn't anything unusual about someone loitering on the street at night in this part of town. Now that the initial fright had faded, he was tired and sore and a little angry.

He didn't _do_ this, he hadn't done this in such a long time. He'd decided early on that he could either do _this_ , or he could live and try to be useful, and there wasn't any middle ground.

If he'd been going to backslide, it should have been nine months ago. Why _now_?

He was about to get up when someone knocked on his door hard enough to shake it. He nearly screamed.

He was flat on the floor when Farah called, "Dirk? Are you in there? I need you to answer me."

The stab of adrenaline left him feeling sick and weak, and he couldn't make a sound.

"Dirk! If you don't respond, I'm coming in."

That...could be a problem.

"Come on, please just tell us you're there," another voice said, sounding somewhat frantic.

"You brought _Todd_?" Dirk said loudly, dismayed.

There was a silence. Then Todd said, "I feel I should be offended."

"It was bad enough I called _you_ , Farah. You shouldn't have come, and you certainly shouldn't have brought Todd." Dirk scrambled to his feet—foot—and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry I called, you should go home, both of you. I'm fine."

"You didn't sound...fine," Farah said delicately. "You sounded scared."

He winced. "It was nothing!" True enough. "That was a...wrong number."

Another silence. "Calling me was a...wrong number?"

"As in...I didn't mean to call that number, so it was wrong. An error! My finger slipped."

"It's three-thirty in the morning, Dirk," Todd said wearily. "Just let us in already, so we can stop shouting through the door."

"Ah." Dirk eyed the door unhappily. "You'll have to give me a minute."

When they were eventually able to enter, Farah had her gun drawn. Dirk shied back.

"That _really_ isn't necessary, you can put that away."

She ignored him and moved swiftly through the loft, checking around all the corners and the other rooms.

"Excuse me," Dirk said huffily. "I _said_ everything was fine."

Todd gave him an unimpressed look. "Are you also going to claim that you didn't just have every bit of furniture you own barricading the door?"

Dirk followed his gaze to the bed in the middle of the living room.

"I was...redecorating."

Farah returned, checked the windows—Dirk's stupid heart stuttered, but she didn't react to anything she saw there—and holstered her gun.

Todd had dialled up the unimpressed-ness a few notches. "In the middle of the night, with a sprained ankle?"

Dirk gave up. He sank down on the couch, his ankle throbbing to remind him that yes, it had been a _very_ bad idea to drag all that furniture around. He really should have started thinking properly a few minutes earlier.

"What happened?" Farah said. "And don't say 'nothing'."

Dirk shook his head. He felt hot all over. He wanted quite badly for them to leave.

Todd sat on the opposite end of the couch.

"Hey," he said, more gently. "Whatever it was, you can tell us."

"I didn't mind you calling," Farah said. "I minded you hanging up and _switching off your phone_."

Dirk tried to make himself smaller. He stared down at his hands.

"I was...confused."

Todd shifted his weight on the couch. Dirk's pulse was picking up again, and the feeling of HIDE from before was now very much more RUN.

"Was it about the kidnapping?" Todd ventured. "Did you have a nightmare or something?"

"A nightmare may have been involved," Dirk conceded. "Of sorts." True again.

Farah finally relaxed. "That's—that's okay. That's perfectly understandable, Dirk. Just, please don't turn off your phone, or I'll--"

"—worry," Todd said along with her, giving her a little smile.

She glared at him, but without any proper outrage behind it.

"It was a mistake," Dirk repeated. "It's...really late, or rather early, you should go home and get more sleep. Sleep is...good."

"Have _you_ slept?"

Of course Todd had noticed his perfectly made bed and unchanged clothes.

"That's not actually relevant, and anyway, we literally _just_ established that I had a nightmare, which tends to happen when one is asleep, it's sort of part of the whole definition, actually, nightmare being a synonym for 'bad dream', as in the sort of dreams that happen when you're sleeping, rather than your hopes and wishes, or imaginative interludes during the day, so you're not being terribly logical--"

He'd been looking away again, and had no warning when Todd put a hand on his arm. He flinched away before he could stop himself. Which was...He and Todd touched each other casually all the time. It was a thing _he'd_ started, and Todd had only properly taken up more recently, but it wasn't in any way unusual, or unexpected, and he shouldn't--

Dirk jolted to his feet. Todd was frowning at him. Farah was watching him rather carefully.

"I should do that,' he managed to say. "Sleep. You should. Go home and do that, too."

Todd rose as well, slowly, like he didn't want to frighten him.

"Dirk," he said, and his tone of voice, and his eyes, big and concerned, just made Dirk think _what if it had been real_?

"I screwed up," he whispered. "And I might do it again."

"What do you mean?" Farah said.

"I _shouldn't have called you_! Not for _that_! For anything else, I'm a _huge_ fan of rescue missions, but not for that! If it had been—if you'd come and he'd really been--"

They stared at him, shocked that he was suddenly shouting, and he shouldn't even be saying these things, but there was an airless dark space behind his eyes, and the sound of boots on concrete, and he was better than this, he knew how to do this, he should know how to do this after so long...

"What are you talking about?" Todd had his hands open and low at his sides, palms up. "If _who_ had been...?"

"You need to promise me something. Both of you. You need to promise me that if it ever happens, you'll run."

"If _what_ happens? You're—kind of scaring me now--"

Dirk tried to pull some air into his lungs, with only moderate success. "If they come for me again." He thought his voice was impressively steady. "You have to run. If it's him. Don't get between him and me. Don't look back. Just run. Promise me."

"Do you mean...Blackwing?" Farah's hand was back on her gun. "If—anything has happened, if you know that something's about to happen, you _have_ to tell us."

"No. I mean, nothing's happened. I just thought—I _imagined_ that I saw him. Priest. It wasn't real. It can't have been real. It was just a stranger, and I was half-asleep, and I—I shouldn't have called you. Not for him."

He was shaking now. Todd took a step closer. This time he telegraphed reaching out well in advance, and gave Dirk time to pull away, which he wanted to, he was a hair way from locking himself in the bathroom until they left, but he accepted Todd taking hold of his elbows, like he was holding him up. Maybe he was.

"That's the guy from Bergsberg, right? From the Cardenas house? The one you said had killed Farah, when he hadn't actually left a scratch on her."

"I wouldn't quite say--" Farah stopped herself quickly.

"You were lucky. He was focused on getting inside, and didn't see you as a threat. You _won't_ be lucky twice."

This was one reason he'd never done this before. Of course they wouldn't listen, because no-one ever did, and because they were both brave and would throw themselves in front of bullets, metaphorical or even not so metaphorical, for other people.

"Promise me," he said again, weakly, afraid he'd actually just made the darker versions of the future worse.

Todd's grip was warm and strong and gentle. "So you had a nightmare about this Priest guy, and freaked out, and called for help, and now you're worried you might put us in danger in a hypothetical situation that hasn't happened yet?"

"Well—" He didn't _think_ he'd been dreaming about Priest. All he could remember of the dream was that it had been dark and lonely and loud.

"I _know_ him," he tried again, his voice trembling. "You have to--"

"I can't promise you that," Farah said quietly. "But I do promise that we'll treat that man as a—serious threat. If we ever encounter him again, we will act with all appropriate caution."

Todd seemed like he wanted to argue, but Farah gave him a Look, and he nodded instead.

"Sure. All...appropriate caution."

Dirk opened his mouth. Shut it again. He wanted to push, but they were...were _Todd_ and _Farah_ and there was no point, and anyway there were memories that he didn't normally allow out and that were now, for some reason, leaking iron-red, and really all he could do was give up.

It had been nine months and he'd been _fine_.

"I don't know why--"

He stopped himself. They knew he was a mess, he'd never seriously tried to hide that, but he did _attempt_ not to be, for himself as much as anything, and certainly to not completely fall apart in front of them too often.

He needed them not to be here.

He needed them never to go.

"I think I do," Todd said, guiding Dirk down onto the couch. "You've been saying you're okay, but you've just been through...a thing. A pretty major thing."

Dirk snorted. " _That's_ not what this—it was hardly the first time I've been imprisoned somewhere unpleasant, you know. I'm sure it won't be the last. Leaf on the stream of creation, remember? Sometimes I end up in a—a hole, or a—storm water drain, for a bit. It's not worth getting...all..."

Now he was on the receiving end of a Look, from both of them.

He swallowed. Let out a shuddering breath.

In a small voice, he said, "So I might...not...be entirely okay."

Todd nodded.

"It was...unnerving."

"It's only been a couple of days. You don't have to—be okay again all at once."

"I _know_."

Dirk twisted his arms in Todd's loosened grip, which exposed his damaged wrists. Todd let go.

"And like you said—it wasn't the first time. So maybe it brought up some stuff from the past?"

Dirk closed his eyes, suddenly so tired he could barely breathe. Speaking was out of the question. He nodded.

"It's nearly four," Farah said.

Todd took his cue. "Would you mind if we hang out here for a while? Not much point going home now and going back to bed just before it gets light."

Dirk wanted to point out that he wasn't a child, needing reassuring platitudes after a night terror, but he was too grateful to object.

Todd took it upon himself to return Dirk's bed to his bedroom. Farah not-so-discreetly checked his security again. Their quiet bustling was remarkably soothing.

He was dozing when the lamp closest to the couch clicked off.

"Don't!" he blurted, eyes snapping open.

Todd turned the lamp back on, mercifully without comment.

Dirk slumped back against the cushions. He wasn't normally at _all_ fond of sleeping with the lights on—which, actually, might explain the re-appearance of certain thoughts, like persistent, carnivorous moths—but that storeroom had been _very_ dark.

When he next woke, it was to sun rather than lamplight.

Todd was in the kitchen, prodding at the microwave. Farah had pulled a chair up close to the window and was watching the street. They both looked at ease. At home.

Dirk turned his face into the sun. All the shadows had gone.


End file.
